


the morning after the night before

by Anonymous



Category: Video Blogging RPF, soothouse
Genre: M/M, Morning After, Providing That There Was A Night Before, Waking Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 07:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20926226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Charlie finds Will’s beanie in his bed - and suddenly things aren’t the same anymore.





	the morning after the night before

Charlie didn’t want to open his eyes. Pain prickled on the inside of his skull, pulsing behind his eyelids. Something that tasted like stale tea clogged his throat and he was certain that if he moved an inch too much, his stomach was going to turn itself inside out. Last night must have been one hell of a party. He pressed his nose into the pillow and flung a hand out to pull the blanket over his shoulders.

The fabric shifted against his skin, making him realize, abruptly, that he was naked. His eyes flew open.

Bright morning light cut through his blurred field of vision, searing his retinas. With a wince, Charlie slapped a hand over his face and just breathed for a long moment, waiting for the pounding in his head to stop. Then he sat up, churning stomach momentarily forgotten as he squinted into the room.

He was alone, but the door was slightly ajar and clothes were strewn all over the floor. He spotted his t-shirt from last night and a pair of socks, along with other bits of fabric that definitely didn’t belong to him. None of the items looked like they would belong to a girl, which…

Charlie swallowed. He felt supremely ill-equipped to deal with the end of that thought right now. So he decided to push it aside for the time being in favor of figuring out whom he had brought home last night. Based on the clothes, it could be anyone. Which was not all that surprising, considering people past high school didn’t necessarily wore shirts with their names on any more.

Maybe he should just pretend to still be asleep and wait for whoever they were to go away, like people normally did in these types of situations.

Charlie flopped back into the pillows and caught a flicker of red out of the corner of his eyes; wedged between his mattress and the bed frame. He reached for it, thinking that it might be a bra or something similar, but the material was too thick. It was rough wool, warming quickly against his fingers.

He knew that color. For a split-second, his mind shied away from the thought, but the realization, thus reached, flared to life like a neon sign.

It was Wilbur’s.

Wilbur’s beanie was in his bed. The bed Charlie had just woken up in completely nude, hungover, and with no clue – but a pretty good guess – as to what had gone down last night.

Actually, now that the thought was there, he did recognize the ripped skinny jeans someone had haphazardly thrown over the back of his desk chair. Those were definitely Wilbur’s. No one else had the legs to pull those off.

Charlie’s mind reeled. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

He took a deep breath and felt it rasp in his throat. Holding the air in, he attempted to force down the lump blocking his windpipe, but his body betrayed him. Just like it had probably betrayed him last night.

Frantically, Charlie worked through his memories. They’d been at a club of some kind, nondescript, not their usual kind of place. A hole in the wall with a bass that vibrated through his bones; warm bodies pressing together in red-yellow light and something stronger than beer on the back of his tongue. Will’s grin glowed, the only real thing in a sea of indistinguishable faces.

Remembering felt like standing on the very edge of a roof, nothing below him but a dizzying drop. Charlie tried to push the memories away, but they stuck to him like the remains of a drink spilled over his shirt: Will’s buoyant smile, his slow, slurred speech when his tongue got too heavy to wrap around the words properly, his lazy blinks and the haze in his eyes. He’d slung his arm around Charlie’s shoulders at some point, leaning onto him. He got touchy when he was drunk.

Warmth trickled down Charlie’s spine. It pooled in his gut, heating his body in the coolness of the room. Cheeks burning, he dropped his head into his hands. “Fuck.”

“Charlie?”

Charlie’s head jerked up.

Wilbur stood in the doorway, in nothing but Charlie’s boxers. His hair was disheveled, as if he’d woken up with it in his face and, until now, not remembered to brush it away. But if he hadn’t been all there when he’d stumbled off to the loo, he definitely was now. Charlie could see it in the sharp, alert way Will’s eyes focused on him. His lips were slightly parted and his shoulders tense, as if he were readying himself for an attack. Like a fox preparing to take a hare.

But there was more than just fighting instinct. He was waiting for Charlie to say something.

Unfortunately, Charlie’s mind was completely blank. He couldn’t do anything but stare, unthinking, at the long line of Will’s throat, until he realized what he was doing and hastily turned away. His fists clenched in the blanket. Blood rushed in his ears. The ember of warmth in his belly flared to life, lighting up his nerve endings, and every fiber of his being was suddenly, helplessly, aware of Wilbur’s presence. The hangover was completely forgotten in favor of the way Charlie felt like his bones might melt. For a wild, reckless moment he thought how nice it would be if Will just slipped back under the covers and they worked out together what he couldn’t recall from last night.

Instead, Charlie forced his tongue to detach from where it was sticking dryly to the roof of his mouth. “Good morning.”

The words came out forced. He looked up at Will, who hadn’t moved.

Their eyes met.

Wilbur still seemed to be waiting for something, but Charlie didn’t have any idea what to say. “Um.” He cleared his throat. “Huh?”

Another moment passed. Nervousness crawled like ants under Charlie’s skin. _Say something_, he thought desperately. _Yell at me, or laugh at me, just give me something to work with, Will._

But Wilbur remained silent, if a little more pink in the cheeks than before.

Charlie tried to find something that wouldn’t sound too stupid. “You’re. Uh. Those are mine.”

The boxers, of course. He looked around to see if he could spy Wilbur’s underwear, but his brain was too busy running circles to process anything.

Something shifted in Wilbur’s face, closing up. “Mind if I borrow them? I couldn’t find my own.”

He walked around the bed to collect his pants, studiously avoiding eye-contact. 

“Yeah, sure,” Charlie said quickly, groping for the same nonchalance. “You could. Um.” He gestured awkwardly to the wardrobe. “You can also take fresh ones. If you want.”

Will looked up, one leg halfway into his jeans, and a spark of mirth flickered in his eyes and died almost instantly. “I should get home. My parents will wonder where I am.”

_‘Will they?’_ Charlie wanted to ask, but didn’t. It seemed as good an excuse as any. “Uh, yeah. Probably.”

Wilbur snagged something from beyond the end of Charlie’s bed that turned out to be a t-shirt and headed for the door. “See you around, dude.”

The way he said it, it sounded more like ‘farewell.’ Charlie’s stomach sank. _Fuck. Fucking hell, what have I -_

“Charlie?”

His head snapped up. “Yeah?”

“We don’t have to tell anyone, okay?”

_Oh._ Charlie swallowed, trying hard not to feel like the world just dropped out from under him, but it was already starting to spin. “Yeah,” he forced out. “Sure.”

**Author's Note:**

> fighting writer’s block.


End file.
